Smile Because It Happened
by LadyOfThieves
Summary: Centred around Briseis after the destruction of Troy, following the film's ending, in which Briseis, Paris etc escape Troy via a secret passageway. Basically it is about Briseis learning to cope with the loss of Achilles.
1. Separation

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters in Troy and am in no way, shape or form connected to the movie.

Briseis wanted to curl up and scream, or return to Troy where she could die with her lover, but Paris' grip relentless grip on her arm dragged her along the dark passageway. Her mind had gone numb and she felt no emotion, save for a desperate need for Achilles. And with every stumbling step she went further and further from her lover.

Paris had been dragging her unresisting form along the passageway for almost three hours by the time he smelt fresh air. A few minutes later they came out into a cave, and from there, into a steep valley, cut by a fast flowing river. He turned to check on his cousin, and assured that she seemed to be alright, hurried upstream.

Another half hour later and they found the surviving Trojans. They had got a fire organized, and Paris was oddly proud to see Helen taking charge of the dazed survivors. She gave a small cry when she saw Paris approaching, and flew to his arms, burying her head in his chest and weeping uncontrollably.

Paris let go of Briseis, ignorant of everything but the immeasurable relief that his love was safe, and he held her close to him, soothing her and murmuring comforting words.

Briseis suddenly remembered the feeling of Achilles' safe, strong arms, carrying her away from the soldiers in the Achaean's camp. A wave of grief and loss washed over her, and the pain was so physical that she swayed slightly, almost falling.

She felt a hand on her shoulders, and was vaguely aware of being led close to the fire and wrapped in warm blankets. As they pain slowly lessened, and she was once more numbed to the grief, she drifted off to sleep.

Andromache, cradling a babe protectively, turned accusing eyes to Paris from where she sat beside Briseis.

"Achilles?" she asked him.

"Dead," he answered shortly.

"By whose hand?" Andromache could not keep the relief out of her voice.

"Mine."

Andromache looked slightly shocked, and she glanced at the sleeping form of Briseis before turning back to Paris.

"You killed your cousin's lover?" she asked incredulously.

Paris shrugged. "He killed my brother."

Andromache shook her head and pulled the blanket up around Briseis' shoulders.

"And I think you may have killed your cousin," she said softly, turning to watch her sleeping child.

Briseis saw Paris raising his bow to her lover. She cried out but he released the arrow and she heard it whistling through the air before it hit Achilles. She screamed out in horror, and shouted at Paris to stop. But he didn't. Another arrow sped past her, burying itself deep in her lover's flesh, and Briseis could feel his pain in her own breast.

Briseis woke screaming, and this swiftly turned to sobbing as she realised where she was and what had happened. She curled up, trying to block out the pain and grief, and buried her face in her hands.

Paris was woken by Briseis screaming, and he rolled out of his blankets and walked quickly over to where she was sobbing.

"Briseis," he said soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Briseis raised her head, her eyes full of pure, unadulterated loathing. Paris paused, taken aback by the hatred in her gaze.

"Briseis," he said in shock.

"Get away from me," she said softly and dangerously, spitting on him.

He straightened up, astonished by her behaviour, and Briseis took the chance to get away. She pulled herself to her feet and ran off along the river until she was out of sight of the man who had killed her lover.


	2. Suffering

Andromache watched Briseis run off along the river. She sighed and lowered her head slowly. She knew that Briseis needed to talk, and she knew that she should go and comfort her, but in her heart she hated Briseis.

It was Briseis' lover that had killed her husband. Briseis could have prevented Hector's death, but instead she went to Achilles bed. Andromache knew her anger was unreasonable, but the wound that was Hector's death went too deep for forgiveness.

She looked down on Astyanax, her child and all she had left of Hector. The tiny boy who had no knowledge of the pain and the fear of the past few days was her life source. Without him, she did not know if she was strong enough to carry on, but he gave her a reason to fight for survival.

She glanced back up at Briseis' disappearing form. What does she have to cling to? She thought sadly. Alone, friendless and grieving, Andromache wondered what she was living for.

Briseis paced moodily along the river that rushed along beside her angrily. She hated Paris. She hated him and she was angry at herself for letting the emotion take over. Why was she doing this? She wondered to herself. Why was she following a band of people who could not meet her eye?

She knew that Andromache hated her, and she understood that. she hated herself at times. She sat down on a slippery boulder and stared moodily into the water. This would never have happened if she had killed Achilles, she decided. That was where she had gone wrong. Had she had the strength to cut his throat, instead of surrendering to his touch, none of this would ever have happened.

To this day she would be living in Troy, no doubt the Acheans would have given up with their best fighter dead, Hector would still be alive, she would be hailed as a hero.

And she would not be pregnant.

She closed her eyes and pressed one hand to her stomach. She had only realised the night that Troy had been sacked, and now she wept angry tears for her fate. Now there was no chance of being accepted into the small community of the survivors. If she wasn't cast out, which she was sure she would be, she would be ignored and abused..

There was one option, she thought. She could kill the child that grew within her. It would not take much: a few herbs in the right quantities, one night of pain and blood, and she would be free of the shackles that bound her, and dragged her down.

But could she do it? Did she have the strength to kill all she had left of Achilles? For despite herself, she loved him still, and she loved their child. Had Achilles lived, she was sure that he would have taken her back to Phthia, and she would have lived, forever content, by the side of the man she loved so much.

He would have wanted her to be strong, to defy those who scorned her. And yet she felt far from strong. He had given her a reason to live when all she could think of were reasons to die. He had kept her safe, guarded her against hurt, and loved with all his soul. Could she really destroy what little she had left of him?

"Why do you still haunt me?" she cried out angrily to the skies. "Why will you not leave me alone? Even now!" and she buried her head in her hands and wept, for all that she had lost, and all that she was yet to lose.

Far away, at the Trojans camp, Helen heard Brisies' despairing cry. She looked up worridly at Paris who was beside her, but he showed no sign of having cared.

"Go and talk to her Paris," she pleaded. "She needs your help."

Paris shook his head stubbornly. "She deserves all she gets."

Helen turned away from him, a confused feeling filling her. She had never done anything but agree with Paris, for in her eyes he could do no wrong. But in her heart she knew that Briseis was being destroyed by grief and guilt.


	3. Irrevocable

They moved further down the river that day. The Trojans walked slowly, adjusting to painful feet and aching legs. They paused often, throwing glances back at the land they had known and loved, and were now leaving.

Briseis walked as if in a trance. She did not speak, and only stopped when the others stopped. She did not seem to feel her bleeding feet or was ever aware of any exhaustion as the others were.

She wasn't totally with them, Helen thought, watching her as they walked, some part of her was far away, in a distant land where the pain and suffering of the presents did not seem to matter.

It was true, for Briseis was not aware of her surroundings, except to follow those in front of her and stop when they stopped. In her heart, she was reliving every moment she had spent with Achilles.

From the time she had first seen him: staring in curiosity at the scared but defiant priestess tied to a post in his tent, to the last time she had seen him: a pained and yet strangely peaceful expression on his face as he leaned close to her and kissed her. What had he said? What was it Achilles had said to her as they parted? Oh yes, that was it: "You gave me peace in a lifetime of war."

Remembering the words, and the final touch of his hands on her skin, his lips on hers, she felt a tear run down her face. She stopped walking and stood with bowed head. Tear after tear came until she was sobbing, and she crumpled and fell to the ground, weeping as if her heart would break.

For the first time since she had been dragged from her lover's dying body, Briseis wept. She wept for what she had had, for what she had lost, and for what she would never had and yet wanted so badly.

Helen saw Briseis stop in front of her, and a minute later she fell down, crying desperately. Without thinking, Helen went to Briseis' shoulder and put one gentle, comforting hand on it.

Briseis looked up, vaguely aware of the compassionate face above her, but no recognition registered in her eyes.

"It will be alright," Helen said, helping Briseis to her feet.

Briseis shook her head. "It will never be alright," she whispered, before turning away abruptly and striding off angrily.

Helen sighed and Paris put his arm around her shoulder. Helen automatically leant her head back on his chest, and sighed deeply.

"You tried, my love," Paris told her softly.

"Not enough. She needs more," Helen said sadly

That night they had set up a camp beside the river in a small thicket of trees. Briseis wandered away from the others, walking along the river. In her heart she wanted to forget everything she had ever known about Achilles. Before he had come, she had been happy. She had loved the gods, and never worried about men. But now she was haunted by him, and she saw him everywhere.

And yet, to forget him, to have never met him and never known the combined pleasure and pain he had brought to her life: she could not give that up. For though every memory hurt with an almost physical pain, it was of such pleasure and happiness.

Every moment they had been together had been like that, Briseis thought as she wandered aimlessly along the bank, collecting different herbs and cuttings of plants. Even when she was at her happiest, lying in his arms, she still felt that hollowness of everything they would never have. Why could it not have been simple? Why had he had to die protecting her?

She would never escape him, she thought. He would haunt her every step in the child that he had cursed her with. She would never be free when his son or daughter was on the earth, taunting her with his presence.

Briseis stood, as if in a daze, staring numbly at the herbs in her hand. She could vaguely hear the sounds of the other Trojans around the fire, but she stood, separated from them by a vast sea of darkness.

She could hear the water rushing along somewhere near, and she wondered whether it would just be easier to jump into the river, and let the icy water wash over her. Then…nothing, no pain, no fear. But again she looked at the herbs. It would be so easy to free herself of him. To return to what she had been like before she had ever met him. All it would take would be to swallow a few plant cuttings.

Helen walked quietly to where Briseis stood on the riverbank. She had plucked up the courage to talk to the quietly grieving woman, and didn't want anyone else interrupting their conversation.

She paused as she saw Briseis looking down at something in her hand. Then she lifted it up and Helen could see it was some herbs. Briseis began to lift them to her mouth, and Helen was filled with horror.

"Briseis! NO!"


	4. Ferocity

Helen ran forwards and snatched the herbs from Briseis, throwing them to the floor.

"No!" Briseis shouted, slightly pathetically, staring at the scattered leaves.

She looked up slowly, straight into Helen's eyes, and slowly tears began to run down her face. Helen instinctively put her arms around the weeping woman, comforting her. Briseis tried to pull away at first, but the tears came thicker and faster, and she clung to Helen.

Briseis' tears finally ran dry, and she wiped her face, looking apologetically at Helen. Inside, Helen was exuberant. Briseis was finally showing some emotion! Albeit it was pain and suffering, but anything was better than the lethargy that had haunted her face before.

"It's never worth that," Helen said quietly, referring to the scattered leaves. "No matter how bad things get, there's always something to carry on for."

Briseis raised a tear-stained face to Helen. "What is there to carry on for?"

Helen shrugged. "When I was in Sparta, I hoped for Menelaus' death. There were days when I wanted to fall asleep and never wake up, but there was always the hope that it would one day end."

"You hoped for death," Briseis said sadly. "I hope for life."

"Nothing can bring him back to you, but you can keep him alive," Helen said earnestly, lifting Briseis' chin to meet her deep blue eyes. "With every moment you are on this earth you can keep his memory alive. He is known for a soldier and a lord, but you know him as a lover."

Briseis shook her head. "It hurts. It hurts too much," she said, in a choked voice.

"I will not say the pain will lessen, nor that you will learn to live without him, but only that your strength will grow with his memory."

Briseis closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them they revealed a dull and aching pain.

"I do not want to be strong. I've spent all my life being strong: in the court, in the temple and when I was first captured. The only time I did not have to fight for myself was when I was in his arms. Only he could protect me and make me feel safe. And now even that is taken from me, and yet again I am alone and fighting once more."

"You do not need to fight," Helen said forcefully. "There are people who could look after you, Paris…"

"…Paris took everything I ever had from me. All the joy I had ever known, all the pain, all the pleasure. He has killed the only man I ever loved, and the only man I ever will love. He has killed me." Briseis' eyes were a steely grey, and Helen flinched slightly from the coldness in them.

"You may never forget him, but you could learn to love again," she tried reasoning with Briseis.

Briseis laughed bitterly. "Helen, if I told you that you could learn to love another man as you love my cousin, what would you say?"

Helen hung her beautiful head. "I would say you were mad," she whispered.

"Then leave me to my sorrow," Briseis said, turning away.

"Briseis, please," Helen pleaded. "I know how you feel!"

"You know how I feel?" Briseis asked incredulously. "How can you know? You? Who sacrificed an entire kingdom for her love?" Briseis spoke in a cold sceptical tone. "You want me to look at you and feel pity? Well I see you, Queen of Sparta," she deliberately threw the insult in, and felt a malicious pleasure at the pained look on Helen's face. "And do you know what I see? I see a woman who threw away thousands of men's lives, just so she could have her three weeks of pleasure. Did you enjoy it, Queen of Sparta?"

Briseis spat in disgust at Helen's feet. The tall blonde woman was trembling violently, but Briseis felt nothing but hate for her.

"Did you enjoy watching men die for you?" Briseis ploughed on relentlessly. "You killed Hector, you killed Achilles, you killed Priam and countless others. Achilles dies because of _you_! Were it not for you, he would still be walking in this world. You killed him."

"He would not have learnt to love if it were not for the war," Helen said quietly.

"It was me who showed him love, Queen of Sparta. But it was your lover who killed him. And do you know what? He killed me too. So between you, you have destroyed a nation, and ripped the heart out of both Andromache and I. Well I hope you enjoyed it, Queen of Sparta, for then it was all worth it," Briseis finished in a bitterly sarcastic tone, and watched with nothing but anger on her face as Helen broke down and fled from her.

A/N – am considering putting something between Achilles and Briseis in, but I'm not a fan of sci-fi kinda stuff. I'm thinking a dream-cum-visitation sort of thing. I don't think they will end up being together in the end, or at least if they do Achilles won't be coming back from the realms of the dead, but I haven't fully decided yet. Really appreciate your comments though, and I definitely think I will include a dream or something like that so I can get some Achilles-Briseis interaction! Keep R&R please!


	5. Dreams

"That was a bit harsh my love," Briseis heard a voice behind her. She spun around, staring into the darkness.

"Who is it?" she asked, her voice bordering on hysteria. "Who's there?"

A familiar shape moved in the shadows, and Briseis dug her fingernails into her pals. It couldn't be…

"I won't say she doesn't deserve it, but that was most definitely unkind," the voice repeated.

The sound of the amused tone the man spoke with sent shivers down her spine. She stood in silence, trying to not raise her hopes too much.

"I'm not sure Helen will be able to look you in the eye now," the gentle voice, said, and Briseis knew who it was.

"It can't be," she whispered, but in another moment the man had come out of the shadows, and with a cry of pain and pleasure she fell into his arms.

Achilles wrapped his arms around her, closing his eyes, and breathing her scent in deeply.

"But…it can't be. You died!" Briseis sobbed into his chest. "I saw you."

"I died," Achilles agreed sadly.

"You're not…" Briseis fumbled for the right word.

"I'm not alive, love. I'm sorry," he said, crushing Briseis' brief if flimsy hopes.

They held each other tightly, and Achilles felt as if he could never let go, but eventually he pulled back, and resting his hands on her shoulders, studied her intently.

"Do not weep for me, my love, for I am in Elysium," he said softly.

"Then I weep that I am not with you," she replied sadly.

Achilles smiled briefly. "You will be one day. But not this day. You have so much more to do, and to give."

Briseis shook her head. "I can't do it without you."

"You got along fine before I came along," Achilles said with a grin.

Briseis punched his chest softly and he laughed.

"You gave me everything I have," she said. "You gave me life when I had none. How am I meant to live now that the man who taught me to live is gone?"

"You are strong, Briseis. Stronger than even you realise. And you will never have to endure more than you can cope with."

"But it hurts," Briseis pleaded. "It hurts so much! I just want the pain to end."

Achilles kissed her softly. "I will always be watching over you, waiting for your time to come that we may be together once again."

"We will be together?"

"Briseis, eternity is a long time, and I shall be waiting for you in the fields of Elysium." He kissed her once more. "Be strong, my love."

"No!" Briseis cried out, realising he was leaving her. "No! Don't leave me!"

He kissed her once more, in answer, and Briseis clung to him fiercely. "What if I forget you?"

"It doesn't matter, for as long as our daughter lives, I will live with you." He grinned wickedly at her. "And I'm sure I'll be able to remind you again."

Briseis gave a pathetic half sob, half laugh. Achilles wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. At the beginning it was slow and lingering, but then she ran her hands round his neck and pulled his face to hers and kissed him so fiercely that Achilles tasted blood from her lip. She sighed softly, releasing him, and then placed her cheek against his.

"I love you," she said softly after a moment.

He smiled gently and kissed her forehead. "And I will always be watching over you Briseis, I will not let you suffer any more than you can bear."

To Briseis, it seemed as if the world was growing fainter and fainter, until all that was left was a high wind, which carried Achilles' voice on it.

"I love you, Briseis. I love you," were the last words she heard before the world of swirling grey mist grew darker and darker until it disappeared entirely.

Briseis woke crying. She was wrapped in her blankets, slightly apart from the other Trojans who were grouped around the fire. She closed her eyes tightly, and could still feel Achilles' touch on her arms, his taste in her mouth. But she opened her eyes and she was alone and cold once more.


	6. Forgiveness

"Please, whatever Gods are out there: let the pain end. I do not want to suffer any more. Please just take my life now and end the anguish I am in. Please…please just let my suffering end."

Andromache could hear Briseis' praying in the depths of the woods. She walked slowly and quietly towards the noise, and paused when she saw Briseis, with her back to her, curled up on the ground, head bowed, sobbing out her plea.

Watching her, Andromache was moved at the anguish she was going through. She is my enemy! She thought angrily to herself, but when she looked at the wreck of a woman she could not help but have her heart fill with compassion and pity.

Andromache walked into the clearing, and Briseis looked up, startled and angry at having been seen.

"What is it?" she snapped nervously.

Andromache put her hands out and drew Briseis up.

"I…" she hesitated, trying to find the courage and strength to say what she needed to say. "I wanted to beg your forgiveness. I have been wrong in my treatment of you."

Briseis laughed hollowly. "_You_?" she asked incredulously. "_You_ are asking for _my_ forgiveness?"

"Yes. Why?" Andromache asked, slightly taken aback by Briseis' reaction.

"I killed your husband. I killed Patroculus, and I killed Achilles," she broke down into tears. "I killed them all Andromache," she raised a grief-ravaged face. "I killed them…" she sobbed.

Andromache recognised some of her own guilt in Briseis, and instinctively wrapped her arms around the sobbing woman.

"You didn't kill them," she murmured soothingly. "They made their own choices, and they decided to fight. They knew the price."

"How do you do it?" Briseis asked in a muffled voice. "How do you carry on each day without him?"

Andromache looked sadly at Briseis. "I have Astyanax. He needs me, and he is all I have left of Hector."

"But don't you want to forget it ever happened? Don't you want it to go back to how it all was before you even knew him?"

Andromache smiled sorrowfully. "I dream of him every night. I see him watching over me. I will not forget him, nor do I want to, for despite all the pain, he brought me so much joy that I could never wish to forget him."

"But the memory, it hurts so much!" Briseis said in an anguished voice.

"Yes," Andromache agreed. "But do you know what I do? Ever day, I tell Astyanax something about his father, so I will always have something to hang on to. I make myself remember him every day, so that I know that all the suffering was worth it." she looked critically at Briseis. "I think that you will soon be doing the same, will you not?"

Briseis blushed, and her hand crept automatically to her growing stomach.

"They will hate me for it," she said in a worried voice. "I will be cast out, and they will turn their backs on me."

"No," Andromache took Briseis' hands in hers. "No. For it is _your_ child, as much as it is his, and they cannot take what is yours away from you."

There was a silence, and Briseis began to think of her unwanted child in a different way. Instead of a curse, it showed the signs of a blessing; instead of despair it was hope.

"How can you say it was worth it though?" she asked.

Andromache smiled, and something as simple as a smile, something that Briseis felt she hadn't seen in years, filled her heart with hope. "Would you have had it any other way?" she asked gently. "Do not weep because it is over. Smile because it happened."

A/N – well guys, that's it. Hope you liked it – any suggestions about ways I could change it will be welcomed tho! Sorry it's so long in coming – I was threatened with being 'unplugged' from the internet if I didn't get down and do some homework!


	7. Love and Hate

Briseis woke before dawn to intense pain. It felt like her guts were on fire, and she moaned lightly, and making sure she did not make enough noise to wake any of the sleeping Trojans, she crawled through the wet grass until she collapsed, vomiting.

Two weeks had passed since she had spoken with Andromache, and it had been like this for ten days. Every morning she would wake to agonising stomach cramps. She would drag herself out of the camp and retch until she had nothing to throw up, and then she would lie, exhausted, on the wet ground, cursing and hating the man who had made her with child.

This morning was no different. Briseis pulled herself upright, rinsing her mouth out with cold water from the river they were following, all the time cursing Achilles. She hated him for causing her so much pain, so much unhappiness.

And yet still she loved him.

She loved him even as she was doubled over in agony, even as she retched emptily, even as she cursed his name and his child. She loved him, and no power on earth or in heaven would take that away from her.

He was the man who had given her life. Before him she had mot known emotion. Yes, she had felt joy, and sorrow, love and hate. But she had never known emotion as he had shown her. Emotion that would devastate kingdoms, lay waste to nations.

He had taught her to love with more passion than a storm: destroying, devastating, it ripped her heart in two and wreaked havoc on her life. And yet it had lifted her on a gentle breeze, giving her hope when she had none, and life when she had wished for death.

It had always been like that, Briseis thought as she walked wearily back to where her kin slept beside a dying fire. She had never loved, nor hated Achilles completely. Why couldn't it have just been easy? Why could she not have adored or despised him with her whole heart? Why, instead, had pleasure had to mix with pain? Even lying in his arms, after surrendering herself completely to him, she could not find peace.

Briseis closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, throwing her voice out to the gods.

"Let it stop!" she pleaded silently. "Let the suffering end! Let me love him, or hate him: let me find peace."

A/N: short one this time, sorry it's been so long coming, I have been trying to work out what's going to happen to her! If you've got any suggestions I would love to hear them – am struggling a bit right now. Thanks for reading it, and keep the reviews coming in!


	8. Loss

Briseis walked wearily back towards the Trojan camp as dawn began to lace the sky. She felt so tired: she just wanted it all to end: the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the exhaustion.

As she came out into the clearing she realised she was later than usual: the others were rolling up their blankets and starting the breakfast fires. Briseis could see Paris talking angrily to Andromache, and she sighed, turning her back on them and packing her blankets.

Suddenly she heard a cry of pain and spun around to see Paris strike Andromache. She fell backwards, and sat there with one hand on her cheek, staring up in Paris in shock more than pain.

Looking properly now, Briseis saw Paris' face clearly. The sheer hate and rage on it made her stop in shock. Never before had she seen such raw emotion in his usually placid features. She met Andromache's gaze for a moment, and the frightened woman's eyes pleaded with Briseis for forgiveness, though Briseis did not yet know what for.

Then Paris turned to Briseis, and she could feel herself quail under his enraged stare. Not even when Achilles had held her by the throat, with the power to throttle her, had Briseis felt so weak, so helpless.

In three short strides Paris crossed to Briseis and hit her smartly about the cheek. Briseis' stood still, gasping with shock, for a moment, her chin still above her shoulder, before she turned to meet her cousin's tirade.

"Is it true?" he demanded of her.

"Is what true?" Briseis asked, trying to find the courage to face up to the oncoming onslaught.

"Is it true…" Paris asked, his face right up to hers, "…that you carry the bastard child of the man who destroyed Troy?"

"If you mean am I pregnant with Achilles' child?" Briseis mustered her courage, fuming at Paris words. "Then yes, it is true."

Paris hit her face again, but this time Briseis was ready, and she slapped Paris back. He caught hold of her arm, and for a moment stood, poised with one fist clenched. Briseis lifted her chin proudly, daring him to hit her, but he let his hands drop to his side.

"You will kill it," he said in a controlled voice, turning away from her.

"No," Briseis voice was scarcely above a whisper, and she stood with her head bowed and her hand resting on her stomach.

"What?" Paris asked in a dangerous voice, turning slowly back around to face her.

"I said no," Briseis eyes rose slowly, and they glinted as dangerously as Paris'. The Trojans had gathered around them, but neither saw them.

"You will do as I say," it was an obvious effort for Paris to control his voice.

"No," Briseis repeated.

"I will not let the bastard child of Achilles live!" Paris shouted suddenly.

"It is also my child, and you cannot, you will not take what is mine from me," Briseis spoke quietly, but every word dripped with anger.

"I can, and I will!" Paris screamed at her.

Suddenly Helen burst through the ring of onlookers, grabbing her lover's arm with pleading eyes.

"Let her be," she begged. "She's done no wrong."

Briseis was still wracked with grief for the angry words she had spoken to Helen, and when their eyes met, she could see that Helen was trying to make peace. But Paris did not even see his lover; the woman he destroyed a kingdom for.

This was not Paris, Briseis thought. It was as if her cousin had been taken over by someone else, for his anger was not of this world.

"Now you are going to tell me that you will the child," Paris said, oblivious to Helen's pleas.

Briseis shook her head defiantly, and Paris hit her cheek with such force that she staggered backwards. She tripped on her pack, and fell heavily, landing on her stomach on her bulky haversack.

A shooting pain shot up from her stomach, and Briseis groaned in agony. In that moment she knew Paris' wish had come true: Achilles child was dead, and the pain of the realisation hurt as much as the stabbing pain in her stomach.

An agonising scream rose, and Briseis was not even aware that it was coming for her. She screamed and sobbed, and then, blissfully, the scream stopped, and Briseis lay still.

Paris seemed to wake, as if from a dream, and looked down on his unconscious cousin on the floor dazedly. He looked up, but none of the others would meet his eye. Helen and Andromache lifted Briseis between them, and slowly the crowd dispersed, leaving Paris, shaking in the horror of what he had just done.


	9. Loss revised

**A/N:** Ok, so this is a revised copy of the last chapter. I realise now that Briseis' child could not have been killed by a simple blow to her abdomen: thank you Richgal. I know this probably wouldn't have killed it either, but I'm kind of stuck for ideas right now, so any help would be great.

Briseis stood wearily by the river's edge as dawn began to lace the sky. There was a small cliff, about six feet high, which she stood at the edge of, looking down, and below swirled the ever-dancing water. She felt so tired: she just wanted it all to end: the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the exhaustion.

Suddenly she heard a cry of pain and spun around to see Paris striding angrily out of the trees towards her. It had been Andromache's cry that Briseis had heard, and she quailed inwardly as she realised what Andromache must have told him.

After Paris stumbled Andromache. Her hand was raised to her cheek, and Briseis could see blood was beginning to well up. Looking properly now, Briseis saw Paris' face clearly. The sheer hate and rage on it made her stop in shock. Never before had she seen such raw emotion in his usually placid features.

She met Andromache's gaze for a moment, and the frightened woman's eyes pleaded with Briseis for forgiveness, and Briseis knew that her precious secret had been revealed.

Paris strode towards Briseis, and she could feel herself cringe under his enraged stare. Not even when Achilles had held her by the throat, with the power to throttle her, had Briseis felt so weak, so helpless.

In three short strides Paris crossed to Briseis and hit her smartly about the cheek. Briseis' stood still, gasping with shock, for a moment, her chin still above her shoulder, before she turned to meet her cousin's tirade.

"Is it true?" he demanded of her.

"Is what true?" Briseis asked, trying to find the courage to face up to the oncoming onslaught.

"Is it true…" Paris asked, his face right up to hers, "…that you carry the bastard child of the man who destroyed Troy?"

"If you mean am I pregnant with Achilles' child?" Briseis mustered her courage, fuming at Paris words. "Then yes, it is true."

Paris hit her face again, but this time Briseis was ready, and she slapped Paris back. He caught hold of her arm, and for a moment stood, poised with one fist clenched. Briseis lifted her chin proudly, daring him to hit her, but he let his hands drop to his side.

"You will kill it," he said in a controlled voice, turning away from her.

"No," Briseis voice was scarcely above a whisper, and she stood with her head bowed and her hand resting on her abdomen.

"What?" Paris asked in a dangerous voice, turning slowly back around to face her.

"I said no," Briseis eyes rose slowly, and they glinted as dangerously as Paris'. The Trojans had gathered around them, but neither saw them.

"You will do as I say," it was an obvious effort for Paris to control his voice.

"No," Briseis repeated.

"I will not let the bastard child of Achilles live!" Paris shouted suddenly.

"It is also my child, and you cannot, you will not take what is mine from me," Briseis spoke quietly, but every word dripped with anger.

"I can, and I will!" Paris screamed at her.

Suddenly Helen burst through the ring of onlookers, grabbing her lover's arm with pleading eyes.

"Let her be," she begged. "She's done no wrong."

Briseis was still wracked with grief for the angry words she had spoken to Helen, and when their eyes met, she could see that Helen was trying to make peace. But Paris did not even see his lover; the woman he had destroyed a kingdom for, he was swept up with rage, and had seen nothing but Briseis.

This was not Paris, Briseis thought. It was as if her cousin had been taken over by someone else, for his anger was not of this world. She looked at him her eyes pleading with him for compassion, but they were met with nothing but coldness.

"Now you are going to tell me that you will the child," Paris said, oblivious to Helen's pleas.

Briseis shook her head defiantly, and Paris hit her with such force that Briseis took an involuntary half step backwards. A half step too far, she realised, as her feet slipped on the edge of the overhang. She struggled desperately for balance for a moment, before falling heavily with a cry of fright.

The distance was not far, but Briseis fell awkwardly, twisting as she dropped, and landed roughly on her stomach on a rock embedded in the stream. Cold water washed around her, luckily not too deep, and she lay still. A cry of fright went up from the onlookers above, and Andromache and Helen rushed forwards to find a way down the rock face.

A shooting pain shot up from Briseis' abdomen, and she groaned in agony. In that moment she knew Paris' wish had come true: Achilles child was dead, and the pain of the realisation hurt as much as the stabbing pain in her stomach.

An agonising scream rose, and Briseis was not even aware that it was coming for her. She screamed and sobbed, and then, blissfully, the scream stopped, and Briseis lay still.

Paris seemed to wake, as if from a dream, and looked down on his unconscious cousin around whom the water lapped, dazedly. He looked up, but none of the others would meet his eye. Helen and Andromache had lifted Briseis between them, and slowly the crowd dispersed, leaving Paris, shaking in the horror of what he had just done.


	10. Regret

Helen walked slowly away from the sleeping body of Briseis. The golden-haired woman had a weary expression on her face and blood on her hands. She knelt beside a bucket of water and began to scrub at the hands and arms.

Andromache, holding Astyanax tightly in her arms, sat beside Briseis. The young woman was sleeping with a strangely peaceful expression on her face after the pain and horror of the last twenty-four hours. Andromache shifted the sleeping baby to her hip and pulled the blankets up around Briseis' shoulders.

Helen heard Paris come up behind her as she scrubbed at the dried blood on her arms, but she did not look around. He stood still, looking down at his lover, and drowning in the pain he had caused.

Helen stood up, and made as if to go, ignoring him, but he put an arm out to stop her. Helen tried to take no notice of him, but his touch on her arm, as ever, sent a thrill down her spine, and against her wishes she turned to face him, her face a mask of pain that she could still love him after everything they had been through.

"Helen please," Paris pleaded with her.

Helen lifted her beautiful head and met his eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, showing no mercy as she probed deep into his emotions. Finally she sighed and looked down, she had found what she had looked for, and it hurt her.

"Helen," Paris begged once more, and Helen felt a tear gather in one corner of her eye.

"Well you got what you wanted," she said quietly, although her voice lacked the feeling to make the words hurt him.

They still stung, and Paris lowered his face momentarily.

"I never meant…" he began, and tailed off miserably. They stood in silence for a moment, neither looking at the other. "Will she be alright?" Paris finally asked.

Helen shook her head slowly. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. Andromache says that the only thing she was holding on to was the child. I found her trying to kill herself a few weeks ago."

She looked up, and the pain and guilt in Paris' face did nothing to stir the sick feeling in the bottom of her gut at having to deliver a dead child.

"You better start praying, Paris," she said, turning away from him. "Pray that you will one day be forgiven."

"By Briseis?" Paris asked.

"By all of us," Helen's voice was harsh as she turned away from him and walked slowly over to the pathetic shapes of Andromache and Briseis.

**A/N:** Thanks for all your reviews: butterfly389 – am trying to make Paris seem a bit nicer: I loathe the man so sorry if I'm a bit harsh. Another meeting with Achilles is on the way – I'm approaching the end, maybe only one more chapter left, or two short ones…anyway, please, please R&R when it's finished, and I'm still happy to carry on revising it if you have any suggestions!


	11. Come With Me

Briseis woke groggily in the middle of the night. It was dark, and she could see Helen had fallen asleep beside her. She was vaguely aware that something was meant to be wrong, but couldn't quite work out what it was, and so just shrugged the feeling off.

She was feeling better than she had in a long time, and looked around the dark camp bemusedly. There was a cool breeze, and Briseis sat up, letting her hair be ruffled in it, and the sweat on her forehead to cool and dry.

Suddenly she was aware that she was not alone, and smiled as she lifted her head to the shadows.

"Hello Achilles," she said calmly.

"Hello love," he grinned, coming out from where he was hidden at the edges of the camp and walking towards her.

"You never called me love when you were alive," Briseis commented, turning her head to one side.

He sat beside her and kissed her gently.

"You wouldn't be having regrets, would you, great warrior?" Briseis teased him gently. "Mighty Achilles, silenced by a slave girl!" she said in mock awe when he did not reply, repeating words the two of them had heard so long ago.

"Not a slave girl," Achilles said firmly, holding her chin up with one hand. "Never a slave girl."

"A guest?" Briseis asked cheekily, and Achilles laughed.

"Perhaps. Yes, a guest," he smiled down at her, and Briseis was filled with a strange kind of peace."

"Come with me," he said, caressing her cheek slightly with one hand.

"With you?" Briseis asked in confusion. "But you go where no living man or woman can follow."

"Yes," Achilles did not dispute her words. "But come with me all the same."

Briseis cast a troubled glance at the sleeping form of Helen. "But my kin, Helen, Andromache…"

"It seems I have to ask you if you would leave Troy for me," Achilles said, and Briseis smiled gently, remembering a night when she lay in her arms and first realised she loved him.

"Troy is gone," she said sadly.

"No. Troy will always live as long as there are men to tell its story. Come with me, love, leave Troy for me."

Briseis suddenly smiled up at her lover. "For you," I would go to Hades itself."

"I do not ask you to Hades but to Elysium," Achilles said as he rose. He reached out, and took her small, thin hands in his rough ones.

Briseis smiled trustingly up at him and let herself be pulled to her feet by him. In one swift, smooth action he lifted her up, and held her in his arms. Briseis laughed, and kissed him, before he began to carry her away from the Trojan camp.

Briseis looked back over Achilles' shoulder, and saw her body lying, still asleep beside Helen. She looked inquiringly at Achilles, but he just laughed and kissed her again. Briseis snuggled down into his arms as he led her into the shadows that surrounded the firelight of the Trojan encampment.

But as Achilles walked, the darkness seemed to get lighter and lighter, until the shadows turned to a silver curtain of glass, which rolled back to reveal white shores and green lands, and Briseis could smell a sweet scent in the air, and then there was sunlight on her face, warming her, and offering her hope and contentment.

Briseis looked up at Achilles and he was laughing, and she was laughing too, for the pain and the sorrow melted away, and she became the beautiful, untroubled woman that had first loved Achilles. He kissed her, and the memories of all the grief and suffering she had known drained away, and there was nothing but him, and her, and an unending world of love and contentment.


	12. Peace

Andromache woke to see Helen standing over her, calling her name in a frightened voice.

"What is it?" Andromache asked, throwing her blankets off and standing up. "What's wrong?"

She followed Helen to where the body of Briseis lay, and knelt before it. She touched Briseis' skin gently, but she already knew that she was dead. There was a smile around the edges of Briseis' face, and for the first time since she had returned from the Greek camp, she looked truly at peace.

Helen sobbed softly, and Andromache took her in her arms.

"It's alright. It's alright," she soothed gently.

Helen drew back from Andromache sharply. "You knew!" she accused. "You knew she would die this night!"

"I knew," Andromache agreed.

"But…But how?" Helen asked, a wild expression appearing through her tears.

"Look at her, Helen. If you were the Gods, looking down at that poor child last night, would you not grant her peace?"

"You could have saved her!" Helen blamed Andromache.

"Saved her? No, for nothing could have saved her heart. She died the night Achilles was taken from her, and she died again when all she had left of him was killed. She is finally with him once more. In Elysium"

Helen was shaking her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It didn't have to be this way. She could have died old, had children and grandchildren," she was sobbing bitterly as she spoke.

Andromache wrapped her arms around the distraught woman once more. "She is at peace, Helen. She had suffered much, and now there is no more pain, no more sorrow for her. Let her go, for she is finally with the man she loves. She is finally free."

A/N: well, what do you think? It's finished now, just in case you hadn't realised. Any glaring errors? Anything good about it? At all? Please R&R – any suggestions on improvements will be very welcome, as usual. Thank you all so much for reading it!


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